


of certain mischiefs and love

by sleepy_ramtsun



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Grocery Shopping, M/M, Other, Romance, Sappy, Satantober, Sharing a Room, Video & Computer Games, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Weddings, i will update the tags as i post more chapters, satan sherlock au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:29:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26770678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_ramtsun/pseuds/sleepy_ramtsun
Summary: a collection of mini-fics about a 20-day prompt involving our resident mischievous catboy Satan! you can find the prompt for satantober inhere!
Relationships: Main Character/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	1. good morning call

**Author's Note:**

> all of these are complete standalones, so just imagine a big book of compilation stories about our resident Avatar of Wrath! anyway, this first chapter doesn’t have any prompt, OP said free prompt so…*jazz hands* i’m letting my imagination run wild!

* * *

Bleary eyes snapped open at the persisting ringing sound, shifting around from the arms wrapped around your body to find the source through heavily lidded eyes and painfully mussed up hair. You had just barely succeeded in freeing your arm out of the comforter when lean arms tightened in a telling squeeze around your waist, before pulling you closer against a warm chest; thereby rendering your previous efforts null.

“Up already?” A soft, husky voice rumbled close to your exposed ear, making you shiver slightly before squinting up to meet a pair of hazy vivid emerald, similarly drowsy from sleep.

“Your phone,” is what you mutter instead, making Satan hum as he finally acknowledged the telltale sound of an incoming phone call from his D.D.D. “Gonna answer it?”

“Should I?” Satan murmured back, just with the slightest bit of teasing coloring his languid tone when you settled back down into the bed, unresisting and wholly comfortable in your current position in his arms.

“Either answer of just make it stop,” you answer around a yawn, drowsiness pulling heavily at your conscious as the golden-haired demon huffs out a laugh. “’s too early… _for this…”_

Your eyes fluttered close a pair of lips pressed upon your forehead, exhaling lightly as you finally succumbed to the call of sleep. And just like that, the phone call finally tapers off upon its final ring at a wave from Satan’s fingers, leaving a pleasant silence behind.

It would be a while yet before the two of you would get out of bed.

* * *


	2. all sheeps and sizes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 2 prompt - cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m not an artist but seeing the omtwt having their mc turning into sheep is really hilarious and adorable! this is probably late to contributing to the trend but today, i offer you sheep!mc but in words!

* * *

“It’s not my fault you’re too curious for your own good,” Satan looks far too amused for you to feel any concern, eyes sparkling brilliant green as he crouches down to your level with far too much mirth dancing across his eyes.

He reaches out then, grasped the opened spellbook that you definitely swore to yourself that you would just take a _peek of because it has realistic drawings of mythical creatures okay,_ and closed it shut with a snap. “But I have to say, I wouldn’t mind having you in this form for a while yet.”

Your bleated loudly in response, pitiful but vehement in your objection or whatever your eyes could scream at him as you tap your front hooves into the ground in visible sign of protest. Though, with your current height…and appearance, well, it was no wonder that Satan looked at you like he was actually considering on delaying the preparation for a reverse spell to shift you back in your true form.

“Relax,” Satan chuckles, laying down the spellbook on top of one of his many book towers (which really looked foreboding with how they loom above you in all their glory, now that you look at it) before finally picking you up by your sides and holding you up to meet his eye level. “You’re cute in this form but I like you better when I could talk to you. Not to mention, the rest of my brothers would definitely lose their minds once they see you like this.”

You blink owlishly at him in response, tilting your head to the side in confusion as you bleat in inquiry.

Satan coughs, quickly averting his eyes as pink erupts over his cheeks. Curious, your nose twitched as you watched his fair skin turn into beautiful rosy hue, your new perspective allowing you to view this rare scene with varying perspectives. And yeah, you really wished you could preserve this moment in a picture.

“On second thought, we’re going turn you back sooner before anyone tries to come into my room.”

** Deleted Scene: **

This does **_not_** definitely look like Satan’s attempt are formulating a solution.

“Oops,” the Avatar of Wrath says just before he was enveloped in a cloud of smoke after murmuring the incantation, not even trying to hide his guilt and blatantly unrepentant look from the way he looks at you with a familiar gleam in his eyes.

Still, you bleat in surprise, hooves clacking lightly across the floor as you rush towards Satan’s form. Noises spill out of your lips as you blindly looked around amidst the smoke, your current visionary perspective helping you in spotting any shifts and shadows that might (hopefully) tell you where Satan is.

Frantically, you look around with your nose twitching madly, but the smell of the smoke overpowered the fresh ink and old book smell that you associate with your resident Avatar of Wrath. As such, you were so busy in squinting through the fog that you failed to register a slender body pressing up against your side before a demanding mewl stretched across your ears.

You yelp, a mangled sound that certainly didn’t seem to go over well with your now-different vocal chords as you hurry to get away before pausing as you look back.

Bright, brilliant green with slitted pupils stare back at you with a look that painfully reminds you Satan.

Next was the sleek golden-yellow fur, utterly soft even if you haven’t nosed at it yet (hooves don’t really translate touch sensations that well, which made you a little sad when you pushed away Satan’s face as he leans closer to inspect your furry face), and the sheer _grace_ that the cat emits even as he sits back on his hind legs after nodding at you. Waving a white-tipped left front paw in the air, he beckons you to come closer to him.

There was a pause in which you blink cautiously at the strangely intelligent feline, and then he does that head tilt that finally nailed the coffin of your suspicions.

No doubt, this was Satan.

Relaxing in relief, you trotted towards the feline who watched you with a smug expression, expression a little longsuffering as cat-Satan eagerly rubs his side on yours with a loud purr. Lying down in a slump on the floor, you let out a mournful bleat as he rubs and gently pressed on your tiny horn using the pads of his paws, not even bothering to hide his excitement at the myriad of strange sensations that no doubt, come from suddenly shifting into the body of a cat.

Yeah, it definitely looks like you’re not going to shift back into your human form (yours and Satan’s, for that matter), any time soon.

* * *


	3. delicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 3 prompt – strawberry

* * *

You beam when Satan absently raises a hand to wave at you, eyes flitting through the chemistry textbook laid out before him with almost unnerving concentration. However, you know better than to be put-off his current attitude, leisurely ambling towards the other vacant chair in the table as the bustle of the café fades out into white noise.

Noticing his faintly pinched look from underneath his horn-rimmed glasses, you settle down in your seat with a questioning stare in your eyes. “Grad school giving you trouble?”

“More like my brothers,” Satan answers, voice dry as he finally concedes to an inevitable break caused by your appearance. Placing his glasses aside to rub the bridge of his nose, irritation seeps in deep to his expression as he narrates the latest shenanigans that his brothers recently came up with. “Apparently, Mammon accidentally broke one of Levi’s limited figurines except it happened a long time ago and Mammon didn’t even tell him about it until Levi found out what he did today.”

“Yikes,” you comment, wincing in sympathy for the other outgoing (if not, a little abrasive but mostly warm) older brother as you take out the strawberry shortcake from the cake box. “What happened next then?”

“Same old, same old, Lucifer yelling at Mammon and Levi and Mammon promising he won’t do it again,” the golden-haired male waves off your underlying worry with a dismissive flick of his wrist, watching you peel open the plastic knife packaged beside the cake before proceeding to cut open a slice for yourself. “I just went out because Asmo’s been eyeing me for modeling his new works for him. And since I’ve been meaning on catching up to some of my readings, might as well study while avoiding my brother.”

“So that’s why he messaged me earlier saying that I should convince you to come back just as I was heading to meet you here,” you mused, finally picking up the lone plastic fork to eat with a hungry look on your face at the prospect of eating some good food. A blissful expression soon crossed your face, eyes slipping shut in bliss to savor the piece of cake that you bought with a happy moan. Definitely stopping to buy some food on the way was the best idea you’ve ever done today.

Humming happily, you eagerly open your eyes with the intention of taking yet another bite, fork already stabbing at the slice you’ve cut until you spy Satan’s unusually intense expression aimed at your face. “What?”

There was a lengthy pause, in which you take in the pleasure of seeing the usually decisive Satan looked torn—really, say what he wants but he’s just as bad as communicating his honest feelings as most of his brothers—before he finally huffs out an exasperated sigh.

“Must you always be this difficult?”

“Want some?” you ask back with a teasing grin, your fork sinking in to a particularly juicy strawberry slice as you open your mouth.

That is, only for one hand to guide it towards the wrong direction, your eyes widening as Satan quickly eats the strawberry on your fork with a challenging look in his eyes. His lips tastefully closed around the fork, eyelashes fluttering slightly as he swallows the fruit before leaning back with a faintly lidded look in his eyes and licking the excess cream off of his lips.

“It’s not too sweet,” Satan’s lips quirk, seemingly smiling in approval as he nods with an appreciative look towards your cake.

Absently, you realize that you were leaning a little more forward than you originally are and your mouth was still hanging open in a frankly unattractive gape by now, making you flush as you hurriedly created some space between the two of you and clamped your mouth shut with a resounding clack. Your embarrassed look prompts a suggestive smirk, further making you blush. “Or did you think I was referring to something else?”

“I hate you,” you whined, unable to forget the way Satan looked at you as his Adam’s apple bobbed from finally swallowing down the fruit that was supposed to be yours now as you look desolately at your cake.

“Then don’t make such expressions like that in front of me,” Satan grins, a little impish and more than mischievous as if he knows just how much he affected you by that action alone.

* * *


	4. homecooked meals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 4 prompt – food

* * *

The murderous expression in Satan’s face had yet to fade even after he had washed up and came to help in the kitchen with you, expression stormy with eyebrows furrowed so deeply that you could only hold in your desire to chat up Mammon on what made the other male look like, well, _this._

It was…mildly concerning.

Well, the way he was slicing up the onions and the tomatoes _is_ mildly concerning. The soothing rhythmic _thudthudthud_ that you heard from the knife hitting the cutting board had never sounded so ominous, and coupled with the dark aura wafting off of him in waves, you were worried that dinner won’t taste as good with how much Satan was glaring at the ingredients.

Even worse, the both of you might even get indigestion as payback.

So as nonchalantly as you can, you sidle up beside him, washing the rice grains under the water as you rest the pot on the sink. And just as Satan was dicing up the last of the carrots, your voice smoothly breaks through his thoughts. “You know, we might get indigestion if you keep on glaring at our food like that.”

“That’s illogical,” Satan scoffs back just as instantly as the last word leaves your lips, but you were unfazed by his abrasive tone. What caught your attention though was how the hand that was grasping the blade was faintly trembling as he paused, but knowing your moody cat of a person, he would sooner confirm that he has…well, _issues_ when he was dead than openly talking it out with you.

A little frustrating but, that’s what further endeared you to him anyway. Prickly bits and all.

“Either way, let’s make a delicious dinner tonight, yeah?” you flash him a knowing smile as you straighten up your form, throwing a wink for good measure as you heave up the pot to place it on the stove. You won’t pry, but you’re here for him just the same. “Oh, and take out the spices from the upper cupboards when you done!”

Patience always did work best when it comes to Satan.

And just as you closed the lid on the pot after turning on the fire, strong arms wrapped yourself, pulling you back towards a strong chest before Satan drops his head to hide on your right shoulder.

There a beat of silence, before he speaks, quiet and tentative as if he needed permission to be allowed to show you his vulnerable side.

“What are we having for dinner?”

“I was thinking about trying out some Asian cuisine,” so you speak after a while, patient and still so full of love to this man who was a paradox when it comes to his own self, filled with layers upon layers that you could only be touched when he finally decides to show you something that you had never expected to see. “It’s been a while since we had something spicy, mh?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, and you could hear the smile in his tone. “That sounds good.”

You start to bob your head in agreement, before you remembered something.

“But no dumping the entire chili powder on the pot!” you burst, face paling at the reminder when you first had dinner with the him and the rest of his brothers at their Main House. Mammon had laughed until Satan threw a whole butter knife in his direction after forcing you to chug down three whole cartons of milk upon taking the first bite from Beelzebub’s latest creation. “I love all of Beel’s recipes but please, _no.”_

Satan stilled, freezing into place before he finally laughs.

A whole-body kind of laughter that you could feel from your back and made the tips of your ears warm with the rich sound of amusement that you could hear.

“Of course,” you didn’t need to turn around to know that he was smiling, his arms squeezing you tighter as his shoulders shake at the reminder of that particular ordeal. “Don’t worry, I have some spicy that you would definitely like without sacrificing your tastebuds for it.”

* * *


	5. eyeing deductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 5 prompt – friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might have gone a bit wild in this universe *cackles* but really, Sherlock!Satan is such a good idea and i had fun watching the sherlock tv series so yeah, this is heavily inspired by that show
> 
> on the other hand, i'm sorry in advance if you find the deductions a little lackluster or anything (*laughs nervously* this is as far as my brain can attempt to be smart sdhjkdf)
> 
> anw, i hope you enjoy!

* * *

“Are you really sure you’re fine with Room 444?” Luke asks for the seventh time as he bounds up the stairs with you, nimbly taking two steps at a time before pausing to obediently wait for you to reach him and then racing ahead yet again. Still, he had no trouble hearing your answer as you amble leisurely after him, hauling behind your suitcase filled with your brushes and colors and all other important stuff that you absolutely _cannot_ risk to be destroyed behind you.

“Um, yeah?” you were a little bemused at the grimace and was that sympathy? as the boy leads you through the hallways and towards another set of stairs. “What’s wrong with my roommate anyway?”

Luke’s face contorted into a series of expressions at that, before settling into what was definitely a perturbed look.

“He’s…a bit of an acquired taste,” he replies, beckoning at you to follow him deeper into the hallway when you finally reached the fourth floor. “Simeon thinks you’ll be the last one to become his roommate though, for some reason.”

“Acquired taste,” you nearly stumble upon the last few steps as you parrot his earlier words, but managed to save yourself in the nick of time as your confusion grows at the unusual description. “Is he a shady kind of guy?”

There was a moment in which Luke seemed to be genuinely struggling to articulate his words, eyebrows scrunched up as his lips twist to form in a particularly frustrated pout, _frown_ as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Finally, he spits out his response with the aura of someone that was both exasperated and weary and resigned all at the same time. “You’ll see.”

Now understandably concerned, you hurry to fall into step with the surprisingly quick boy. You sort of, kinda really need to stay in this room so you can at least save up on transportations expenses as you go to and from at RAD. “That doesn’t sound too promising.”

The light blond-haired boy quickly comes to a stop with an antique wooden door, seemingly visibly steeling himself as you near towards him.

“That’s because you’re going to be the twenty-eighth person who’s going to switch out rooms this time around,” he answers, voice as equally curt as it is inexplicably miserable as he turns to spare you a pleading look, “all of his roommates gave up on staying with him after a while. It’s been a hassle trying to sort everything out so if you don’t like him after this, just come back to the office with me and don’t make a scene.”

But before you even put a word in to have him elaborate exactly on what he meant by that; the door clicks open. A near-silent creak, before you come face-to-face with your soon-to-be roommate in Room 444.

And what follows next was frankly one of the possibly most baffling of situations that you find yourself in.

Clad in a pair of pajamas underneath the glaring white of the laboratory coat that your alleged roommate was currently wearing, holding what looked to be a large jar filled with what looks too be filled with _human_ eyeballs while his bangs were pushed up by a pair of industrial-grade goggles to show a smooth forehead and strong eyebrows scrunching up into a glare, your new roommate inspects you and your temporary with the air of someone that was clinically observing preserved specimens under a compound microscope.

“Luke, if you’re going to prattle on about the about the reasons why those incompetent wastes of space find excuses to switch rooms upon meeting me,” sharp green eyes narrowed as an attractive blond-haired man pins his gaze on a the young boy, lips curving into a pretty, _arrogant_ sneer, “then I suggest that you do so without standing in front of my door instead of knocking on it like what any other person would do when they stop in front of my door.”

You feel your posture unconsciously stiffen as that piercing stare soon turn towards you in full brunt, barely hearing Luke’s indignant squawk as you attempt to bravely meet those assessing eyes.

“Hello,” you offer when the other’s lips remain pursed, managing to paste a fairly genial smile as you continue to introduce to yourself. “My name is—”

He interrupts you by finishing the rest of your name, before proceeding to sound like he’s memorized a list that specifically pertains to you. “Yes, I know. Traditional artist but is currently dabbling with digital art. A little clumsy and prone to getting ink stains but not so much as to make a complete mess. All of your smudges are unintentional, hinting that you often get lost in your work after a while that you’re not bothered enough by the subsequent mess. Mm, a freshman at RAD’s College of Fine Arts and Design. Oh, and a scholar to boot, the one with a hundred percent defrayal from all tuition fees I assume. It’s also your first time in Devildom, so you might have come from the Mundane Outskirts or somewhere close to it. No living parents and few friends, if you could even call it that. And my, you’re really not a great liar, are you?”

From beside you, Luke makes a noise that sounded very close to an aggrieved whine.

There was a blanket of heavy silence after that, with you gaping unattractively until your roommate suddenly flashes a small smile. “My name’s Satan, second year in RAD. Majoring in both Chemical Engineering and Philosophy.”

“U-Um,” you struggle not to goggle stupidly at him, _Satan_ after the barrage of nothing short of personal information come out of his mouth with such confidence except…“have we…met before?”

“No,” he answers, utterly prompt. He was still holding that jar of eyeballs.

You look at Luke. The boy had already placed his head into his hands, blatantly unwilling to be involved. “Uh…okay…”

“Okay…” Satan repeats slowly with a growing enlightened look, apparently taking it as a signal to elaborate further upon eyeing your expression of dumbfounded shock. “Well, the cuffs of your sweaters are loose and smudged with ink, indicating frequent use especially when you work, likely on acrylic paintings judging by the color stains at the edges. Also, the fact that it’s still there and relatively fresh still, tells me that you’re used to finding stains on your body at least once and it happened frequently enough for you not to be bothered by it anymore as you meet other people. On the other hand, your suitcase seemed to be filled with solely about art tools due to its size and the noise it made when you arrived. Along with that, your luggage tag indicates your previous address of residence, which is named differently from the streets in Devildom.”

“Wait—”

“Wha—hey, Satan! Cut it out!” Luke hurries to cut the blond haired-male off upon realizing the impending disaster, only to be rudely ignored by yours truly.

“The recent appearance of the ink shows that this is your first time venturing out far enough to need to write down your contact number and address on your luggage in case it was lost,” Satan continues still to explain, eyes bright with a gleam that can’t help but take your breath away despite having your layers slowly being pulled off for all the world to see. “No parents, well, it’s evident in the way your posture squares up when meeting stranger. Likely an orphan at a young age and taken in with a relative was relatively absent most of the time, leading you to grow up with early with a sense of independence.”

“That’s—"

Contrary to your rising amount of awe paired with an amalgamation of horror, morbid interest and disbelief, Luke grows increasingly distressed. “Stop!”

“With the friends, your attitude is very much open and friendly. However, your eyes are too calm for it to be genuine enough, meaning that either you have few friends that you’re close with or have acquaintances that you’ve talked with enough that they could probably count as a friend. Meaning, you’re not good at socializing with other people enough to stimulate the desire to get to know you more.”

“Uh—” you finally decided to speak once again, if only to placate the boy flushing angrily at the deliberate way he was ignored.

“Liar, mmm,” Satan grows thoughtful for a moment, giving you a cursory sweep before meeting back your gaze, “you can’t really hide your true emotions especially if they get too strong. I’ve seen it when I first started listing my deductions about you, but I was surprised that you managed to push past your instinctual discomfort upon hearing so many personal information come out of a stranger’s mouth to greet me with a genuine desire to get along. Am I really your last option when it comes to saving up money?”

Your mouth quickly part opens in preparation to answer, before he dismissively waves it off. “Nevermind that, you clearly aren’t intimidated by Luke’s disparaging comments towards my apparent penchant to frighten my so-called roommates so you’re pretty willing to put up with me as long as I’m decent. Apart from tending to be up at what my brothers would insist that are odd hours, occasionally accompanying Solomon whenever he’s on a particularly demanding case, and if you don’t mind having human preserved human organs in the fridge, do I live up to your personal expectations of a room—”

_“You’re amazing!”_ you suddenly blurt out, voice breathy and filled with pure, unadulterated with awe that made Satan turn very, _very_ still.

And perhaps it was a little unconscious on his part but he seemed to have adjusted his hold on his jar of human eyeballs a little closer to his chest while his brilliant, _beautiful_ emerald eyes went a little wider than usual in surprise. (Wait, is that a blush?)

“Are you serious?!” Luke asks, voice high and shrill with disbelief as you looked at him.

“But isn’t it amazing?” you can’t help but shoot back, a little offended on Satan’s behalf at the clear incredulity painting the boy’s features. “You have to be really observant and good at studying body language while cross-referencing it to other knowledge and research pertaining to micro-expressions and habitual ticks in order to accurately come up with an inference that is more less the truth. When you look at it that way, isn’t it simply brilliant that Satan can do all of those things _and_ come up with the correct conclusion after a look?”

“W-Well,” now he looks sufficiently chastised, if only a little begrudging as he casts Satan an appraising look. “I suppose that _is_ kind of amazing. A-Anyway, seeing as you haven’t run away yet from your first meeting, I suppose I should go back to Simeon. You know where to find us, okay?”

“Yeah,” you bob your head in agreement, lips curving into a grateful smile. “Thanks for leading me here, Luke.”

“I-I just did it because Simeon told me t-to!” Luke was adorably flustered, finally turning on his heel to scurry away. “Oh, and your things are going to arrive in an hour by the front door!”

And with that parting words, he disappears around the corner and left the two of your behind in the hallway.

“Well, my brothers always did say I get a little too intense when it comes to meeting new people,” at the fond exasperation coloring the offhanded remark sounding from behind you, you turn to look at a pensive Satan staring at the jar in his arms with his eyes glazed over in thought. “But this is the first time that nobody’s gotten offended by what I did before, except for my brothers. And it’s not like you’re putting up with me since it would clearly show on your face.”

“And what does my face say about what I feel from this right now?” you cut in with a question, honestly curious and making him finally look up to meet your own gaze.

He blinks, and the sheer confusion in his face was utterly _endearing._

“You’re…amused,” Satan says, voice slow as if he was just coming to terms with what he had just seen. “There’s still discomfort, but you’re not as hostile as the others have been.”

“Well,” you carefully wheel your luggage in towards the opened door, with the other male silently following behind, “I _was_ a little scared for a moment by what you did there since I’m sure I’ve never met someone as… _unique_ as you are. But that only makes it better to talk about how we’re going to do things from now on, yeah?”

You definitely did not hold your breath as you wait for his response—by which you had stepped further into the room and see the veritable towers of books scattered on one end of the room while the other side was a barren excuse of an empty bed, where it was surrounded by questionable fluids that filled up various flasks on the floor—and just when you turn back to peer at him in worry that you might have already overstepped on his then-non-existent boundaries, you’re greeted with a faint smile.

A barely-there quirk of his lips, but it still made him look all the more beautiful as your heart lurches at the sight as Satan’s eyes curve upwards as a reflection of his appreciation at your tentative offer for a friendship.

“I think I would like that very much.”

Maybe having him as a roommate wasn’t so bad after all.

As far as first impressions go though, this was the wildest one you’ve ever had _yet._

* * *


	6. outside heroic heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 6 prompt - enemies

* * *

In your defense, you just wanted to earn some money damnit.

“I’m not here to rob the store or anything,” you immediately blurt out, only to curse internally to yourself as you held a grocery basket filled with rejects (because _someone_ has to put them back in their rightful place since some idiots only chose not to buy them by the time they’re at the cashier) defensively against your chest. Although it made you want to kneel down and beg for forgiveness on what you might do in the event that something _did_ happen, you were definitely ready to chuck canned sardines and fruits to this damnable hero as you make your escape. And eggs.

Yes, you’re definitely going to throw the eggs first for some dramatic psychological effect. Never mind that your paycheck would shrink or even grow wings and fly away after this, considering your manager’s mood lately.

Agent Professor—or rather now, _Satan_ blinks at your blunt statement, before giving you a dry look. And really, it was unfair that he managed to look so good in a casual v-neck sweater underneath an honest-to-god _blazer_ with only one arm properly inserted in one of the sleeves and the other half was draped over his shoulder, while you probably looked like some slipshod excuse of a human being that made people give you a wide berth as you stood next to him. You’d _think_ that being an infamous villain would give you some access to the richer points in life but here we are, dingy-looking and doing part-time jobs with graveyard shifts to save up for a repair of your villain regalia. Really, the _one_ time that you decided to work early and then _this_ happens. “Well, if you’re _that_ worried to be misunderstood, then I suppose it’s more than enough that you’re not here to commit a crime, are you?”

You relaxed imperceptibly, but not before flashing him a disdainful glare. “Don’t get mistaken, hero. I’ll let this pass just once. Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

“Then again,” the infuriating so-called golden boy of a hero—the fourth-born of _the_ seven brothers that were good as hellish demons to you and other villains alike ever since their debut to society—sidles up beside you to inspect the canned section as if you can’t freeze him to death in the span of a heartbeat, before finally picking up two spicy cans of sardines with the all of the indolence of someone that had perfect control of the situation and he _knows_ you know it, “even villains can’t live off of spite and evil alone.”

“Easy for you to say,” you growl, tone poisonous and biting, “since you don’t have to worry about how to pay the bills. What with the big fat check that your Association gives to the likes of you.”

“So why be a villain still?”

At that, you can’t help but pause, both from the sudden question and then at the unnatural intensity in Satan’s eyes as you turn to stare at him in surprise. Some unknown emotion lurked within those depths, as if your following words hold a significant gravity to whatever it is that made Satan refrain from confronting you upon realizing your identity.

“Does the reason matter so much?” you decided to ask back, raising your own eyebrow for good measure. “I wanted to be a villain, so I became one.”

He didn’t reply for a moment, until a faint huff escaped from his lips.

“I should have known better than to hope,” he murmurs, and you visibly scowled at the following words. “Villains only reveal everything when they finally caught the hero. Monologuing, that kind of thing, that’s what you’re good at, yes?”

“Because you heroes refuse to listen when it counts the most if only to insist that you’re the one in the right and we’re not,” you sneer right back, quickly putting in some distance between the two of you as he settles comfortably down on your left. “You heroes are always itching hurt anyone as long as they fit in your stereotypical villain requirements.”

“Who said anything about beating up the next villain? There’s no correlation between my previous statement and your previous answer to my question for you to have arrive to that kind of retort,” Satan quirks an amused eyebrow, idly taking out three cans of tuna and dropping it on his own basket. “Also, I don’t see anyone that fits into some so-called villain requirements.”

You bristle, both in humiliation and budding fury _and yeah, okay you know you don’t look like a high-ranking villain with your current look but you froze whole cities and water bodies damnit_ and Satan better remembered who almost caused him to drown. “Listen—”

“All I see is someone trying to give me thoughtful pointers on what brand to choose from for today’s dinner,” he said, a little louder than his previous tone. Now more than angry, you prepare to fire back a scathing retort when you his eyes meet yours and his lips twitch to form near inaudible words. _“Police Bureau Chief behind you and approaching at two seconds.”_

And just as the weight of his message started to pound itself to your irritation-addled brain, loud, booming laughter meets behind your ears.

“Your turn at the grocery again, Satan?” The _Diavolo_ sweeps in with all of grandiose splendor, his magnetic aura easily catching the eye of many as the surrounding people burst into curious whispers. Nevermind your paycheck right now, you have your freedom now up for fucking grabs. “I thought you said you’re going to track down Harbinger tonight and going to be back late.”

“Lord Diavolo,” Satan greets, if only a little strained as he inclines his head in greeting. “As you can see, matters have predicted otherwise.”

“Or Lucifer threatened to ban your official access on restricted books for a whole week,” the other male quips lightheartedly, before his eyes happens upon yours. “Oh, and who’s this?”

“Helped me in choosing brands,” Satan quickly grunts, shooting you a pointed look from behind Diavolo’s back as you try to contain your instinctive flinch at being addressed by _the_ Chief of the Devildom Police and the son of the Chairman of the Hero Association. “We’re just finishing up.”

“My,” the red-haired man’s expression quickly grows sly, a hint of mischief flashing through his eyes the both of you. “I thought your eyes were only set for Harbinger. Perhaps I thought wrong?”

Your heart lurches within your chest.

“What nonsense are you talking about?” Satan snaps, voice curt but your eyes weren’t deceiving you as you spot the tint of pink in his cheeks. “And why are you here anyway?”

Luckily, or perhaps, _un_ luckily for your curiosity, Diavolo decides to let go of the matter in favor of dropping his previously carefree façade.

“I’ve been looking for you actually,” he explains, before looking at you with an apologetic gaze. “I’m sorry for suddenly interrupting the two of you like this but…”

“N-N-NO!” you pray that your voice wasn’t shrill enough and filled with too much panic, managing to muster up a soothing smile. “I’m sure he has some important business to attend to. A-And I’m just about to pay for my groceries anyway so! It’s probably time to take my leave, er, Chief Diavolo.”

“If you say so,” Diavolo still looked a little regretful, but your mind was swirling still with the casual bomb that he had just dropped into your lap.

Satan has his eyes for you?

_Agent Professor?_ The man who always engaged you for fight while the rest of your companions sought after the rest of his brothers?

And why did your heart thump upon that idea?

“I’ll be going then,” you resolutely did _not_ look into Satan’s direction, trying your best not to hurry too much and give everything away as you left the two of them behind.

Ridiculous.

Truly, irrevocably…ridiculous.

And yet, he straight-up lied to Diavolo and gave you a solid alibi in order to stay under the radar.

When he could have perfectly revealed your true identity and finally get caught after all these years.

* * *


	7. blooming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 7 prompt - flowers

* * *

_“What would it take for you to create one thousand different flower arrangements in just two weeks.”_

You yelped as something slammed on top of the front desk, the small bouquet that you’d lovingly took your time working with tumbling out of your hands and into the sleek black surface of what looked to be a briefcase. Tentatively, you traced the hand that was spread out on top of the suitcase (now subsequently buried underneath a pile of blue and purple hydrangeas) with no small amount of dread and trepidation _because you’re really just trying to sell your flowers so please don’t take me away_ , only to come face to face with a veritable golden-haired _god._

A wild-eyed, slightly sweaty and disheveled god but _still._

Never in your life that you had wanted to put someone in a whole bed of sunflowers and just…place flower crowns after flower crowns filled with different arrangements, if only because it would be a huge _travesty_ for someone like him to just…not be placed with **_flowers._**

“Excuse me.”

“U-Uh yes?” you squeak, gaze focused on the way those thin lips part and move as the sharp-eyed man pins you with a faintly pleading gaze. “W-W-What were you saying earlier? Sorry…”

As if reading your thoughts, his mouth curves into an unholy smirk, eyes lidding and seemingly transforming with such a presence even if he looked a quite harried before. “Are you really willing to listen to me now, hm?”

His little hum at the end made you gulp, cheeks flushing as your expressions turns contrite.

“Sorry.”

“No matter,” he waves it off, looking faintly chagrined himself. “I _had_ been a little rude earlier. For that, I apologize.”

“W-Well,” your cheeks could _not_ possibly get any hotter after this as your newest customer (and hopefully, a soon-to-be patron) sincerely expressed his own apology. Gingerly gathering the fallen flowers on top of his hand, your lips quirk into a kind smile. “Why don’t we start over again? Welcome to my shop, sir!”

“Satan,” the golden-haired man, _Satan_ corrects, relaxing ever so slightly as he nods at you in acknowledgement. “My name is Satan.”

“Nice to meet you then, Satan,” you beam, introducing yourself in turn before finally bringing us the generic service question. “How would you like your flowers to be done?”

He hesitates for a moment, before finally deciding to elaborate over what he had said earlier.

“It’s my brother’s coming-of-age birthday,” he explains, tone a little exasperated and yet fond at the same time. “And I’m the one that has to handle the flower section in his party, since he wants everything to be as ‘beautiful’ and as ‘wonderful’ as possible. Hence, the one thousand different flower arrangements.”

One…thousand…

Still, you can’t help the sarcasm that laced itself around the proverbial quotations on his words. “And you said…that you need it all in two…weeks?”

To your surprise, Satan sighs, a look of self-deprecation crossing his face.

“I’ve put it off for so long since it’s an easy enough task to do. But it wasn’t until Asmo came to call on me earlier that I remembered it today.” At that, the distress showing through his eyes was anything _but_ fake. “I’m ready to offer one million Grimm at this point, but the past flower shops I’ve been to either hasn’t met my standards or I don’t trust them enough to not do a good job in arranging each bouquet.”

“One million Grimm?!” you squeaked, because _a million for **flowers?**_

“It’s nothing,” Satan can’t help but smile at your reaction, before tapping the surface of the previously forgotten briefcase lying down on the counter. It took longer than you would have liked before you had gotten his silent message, but you were frightened all the same. “I’m working on a too-harsh time crunch after all, so it’s the least I can do to compensate for all the trouble I’ll be giving.”

“Are you serious?!” At his nod, you can’t help but slump back on your chair in numb shock. Rich people carrying one million around like pocket money really _are_ on a whole other level!

“I’m perfectly capable of defending myself against any thief,” Satan assures after spying your disconcerted gaze, before hesitantly springing the, pardon the unintentional pun, _million Grimm_ question. “So…do you think you’ll be able to do it?”

“Well,” Faced with such a look, you can’t help but hesitate. Your co-workers were just a bunch of college students earning some extra cash, and tackling on such a huge endeavor would be nothing short of disrespectful to them—considering their own schedules and workload. Even then, you really weren’t confident that you could churn out a thousand _unique_ bouquets in time. “I don’t know…”

“I’ll be willing to work with you,” Satan insists.

“There must be some other flower shops that you could come to…” you trail off, unable to stop the helplessness from lacing into your tone. “It’s not like we’re famous…or, or anything.”

“It has to be you.” He still refused to budge; voice as serious as your heart skipping a beat at the unnatural focus shining through his eyes when you look at him. “I saw you before I came in. Every flower that you picked for your arrangement was done after finally choosing the best choice. No matter if it took you a while, you still wouldn’t sacrifice quality over quantity.”

“I-I might be slow but I don’t think you should rush flower arranging just to get it over with and earn some profit!” By now, you’re well and truly starting to become dizzy with all the heat that rushed to your face.

Looking at the vibrantly blooming flora that you studiously maintained and cared for every single day, you plaster on a loving smile. “And besides, they already had their lives cut short the minute they were picked out of the fields. The least I can do is to make sure that a lot of people will appreciate them as much as possible before they go.”

“Which is why I can trust only you to give me the kind of output that I want and which would make my brother extremely happy on his birthday,” Satan says, voice a little quieter as he stares at you with an unknown emotion gleaming in his eyes. “No flower shop owner I’ve come across was as passionate as you are when it comes to this.”

“You flatter me too much,” you can’t help but laugh, tone teasing as you raise an eyebrow at him. “Am I really your last option?”

“Yes.”

“Well, the answer is still an ‘I don’t know,’ though,” you repressed the urge to smile wider at how his shoulders drooped imperceptibly,. “Unless you’re willing to charm the rest of my co-workers into agreeing to this… _demanding_ project, I suppose, then you have yourself an order.”

Satan’s expression was solemn. “Deal.”

(And you really weren’t surprised when the next day comes and everyone unanimously agreed to make one thousand different flower bouquets ten minutes into talking with Satan.)

* * *


	8. white and gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 8 prompt – formal attire

* * *

“He’s crying,” Leviathan comments, all-too gleeful as he zooms the video camera into Mammon’s suspiciously wet eyes. Beside him, Asmodeus tuts at the sight of their second eldest brother already bringing out the waterworks barely three words in to his vow, frowning at the excessive rubbing over his eyes.

“He’s going to ruin the makeup I did for him!” he whines, making Belphegor sigh.

“Give it a rest,” the youngest grumbles around a small yawn, glaring halfheartedly at the elder. “It’s his day.”

“Yeah,” his twin was quick to back up, though only after gulping down three helpings of milk candy with a blissful grin. Spying your curious gaze, Beelzebub happily gives you a piece to try. “Mammon deserves to be happy for today.”

“Anyone who’s getting married deserves to be as happy as they can get,” you quip, smile turning a little softer when Mammon tearfully sniffs through his last words and tenderly slipped the ring on his partner’s hands. Nobody had ever expected for Mammon to finally have the courage to propose first before his partner decided to put the matter into their own hands, even more so when he pestered everyone for advice on how to make the

“Still, I can’t believe he’s the first one out of all of us to get married,” Leviathan shakes his head. “I always thought that it would be Lucifer who would get married first.”

“Who would want to get married to him?” Belphegor asked, voice snide.

“Someone who loves him as much as he loves them in return,” you answer, ultimately deciding to omit the presence of other clothes (that doesn’t look like Lucifer’s) strewn all over the floor to the eldest’s penthouse apartment after the one time you visited him to drop some important documents that needed his signature. ~~And the post-sex hickeys that you were greeted with by the time Lucifer opened the door.~~

A brief moment of pensive silence ensued after your words, before Asmodeus finally huffs out an incredulous laugh. “That’s impossible!”

“What’s impossible?” Lucifer asks, approaching the seats that all of you were occupying in followed by Satan.

“Nothing!” Leviathan squeaks, shooting a rare, quelling look at Asmodeus who obediently settled down in silence as Lucifer takes his seat on Leviathan’s left side. “At least, I got everything down on video, with a special close-up to Mammon’s crying face?”

“Oh?” His expression shows a hint of amused interest at that particular piece of information, while the blond-haired male makes a beeline on the vacant seat to your right, flashing you a soft smile as he quickly settles down in place.

Clad in a pure white three-piece suit with golden trimmings and a red carnation pinned to his breast pocket and with his hair tastefully slicked back to show his smooth forehead, Satan looks exceptionally ethereal; _exquisite_ even with how the natural lights around the venues bathes him in a soft halo of light, his yellow locks looking like spun gold. A prince of light…an angel that lures you better into committing a sin than any demon could, but that would be a contradiction in both essence and symbolism, for demons are supposed to be the ones that would tempt you instead of beings clothed in pristine white. With how Satan carries this current look though, he might as well be a demon parading an angel instead of simply being a near-representation of a holy being, but one that embodies far-too well the temptation and sin instead of the virtues that an angel was supposed to preach.

It was simply inconceivable that you could look at him wearing such a look and associate it with the word: _angel._

“I wasn’t expecting to be ogled so soon when I arrived, but I’m not complaining,” Satan’s amused voice sharply penetrates through your dazed bubble, making you jerk as you hurriedly tried to catch yourself. “And really, I must say, you look quite a sight so yourself.”

Vivid green eyes pinned you in place, before doing a deliberate sweep over your entire form, his gaze making you slightly squirm as your ears started to redden from the attention.

“Ugh, spare me with the flirting,” Belphegor’s light gagging sounds attracted the rest of the brothers’ attention, making you cough while Satan merely glared at the sleepy-eyed male. “You _do_ know we’re in a wedding, right? Specifically, Mammon’s wedding, right?”

“R-Right!” you squeak, shuffling a little farther away from Satan as much as your seat can allow. “It won’t happen again, Belphie!”

“So you mean to say that you’re not going to argue if I did it during _my_ wedding?” Satan hums, making Asmodeus splutter.

“Hey, you’re definitely not getting married before me!”

“First Mammon and now Satan?” Leviathan’s voice was the perfect picture of misery, glaring at you with the offense of someone that still haven’t went to a first date. “I refuse to accept this!”

Prudently, you hid your reddening face within your hands with a quiet whimper.

* * *


	9. not an eyesore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 9 prompt - demon form

* * *

You know that Satan doesn’t like transforming into his demon form.

And perhaps it was because maintain his human form was tantamount to the excellent testament to his seemingly impeccable self-control, considering that he governs such a volatile domain of sin. Or that he probably views it as a momentary loss of his over his own emotions, which would urge him to perfect and perfect his self-restraint and discipline until he was finally satisfied enough to put his latest demonic transformation behind him.

In a way, you supposed he wasn’t far too different from Lucifer in this regard.

Both were unwilling to show a glimpse of their vulnerability, choosing to hide and hide until they were ready to show their impenetrable façade once more to the world.

Though, he would definitely not appreciate the comparison.

“What are you thinking about?”

Satan’s curious query makes you blink back your thoughts, gaze refocusing on his glasses-clad eyes while his green-tipped fingers held an ancient-looking hardbound book. The horn-rimmed glasses were particularly _eye-catching_ when mixed with his demonic form, and you can’t quite help the laughter from bubbling out of your lips at the sight of Satan peering at you through his glasses with a clinically raised eyebrow. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Nothing,” you reply, perhaps a little too cheerfully from how his eyes narrowed in immediate suspicion. “I was just thinking that demon forms aren’t really that different from changing clothes in a snap.”

Satan paused for a moment before sighing, but his tone was far fonder than exasperated at your words. “Truly, only you would downgrade demon forms into something as normal as having a change of clothes, huh?”

“Well, you still have to wear glasses while you’re in your demon form…” you hemmed and hawed, paling nervously as his eyes flashed at your not-so subtle remark and heartbeat lurching as a sickly-sweet smile soon spread across his face.

“Would like to repeat that again, lovely?”

“Nothing!” you squeaked, squirming under his heavily judging stare before Satan finally relents.

“I thought so too.”

Really, he should have invested in a pair of contact lenses if he was this conscious at his poor eyesight getting poked and prodded at.

* * *


	10. ballads of the heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 10 prompt – dating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m indulging my SolAsmo ship in this one aaa I hope you don’t mind!

* * *

“I can’t believe you left me behind!”

Asmodeus all but screeched as soon as he barged inside your apartment, which was really only about three doors down from the hall where the singer was residing in. So, in hindsight, it should be nothing but perfectly normal that you’re used to having the pale pink-haired male invite himself in to your place without so much as a by-your leave.

“What’s this about?”

Except, well, Satan is here.

Which only intensified Asmodeus’ offense as soon as he caught sight of his brother peacefully eating breakfast with you. No doubt, it was a mockery to his current inner turmoil.

“Traitor,” he hissed, but still took the other available seat on the table. Satan raised a curious eyebrow at the genuine animosity wafting off of the other towards you, to which you replied with a helpless smile as Asmodeus sulkily helps himself to the food. “And you didn’t even think to tell me!”

His fork made a furious stab aimed towards at your general direction, eyes blazing with righteous anger. “I even had to find out from Levi! _Levi!_ Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?”

“It’s not like we intended to keep you from knowing about this,” you soothed, but to your absolute horror, Asmodeus sniffles. _Wetly._

But before you could even try to remedy the budding waterworks _because you do not **want**_ _to be yelled at by the makeup stylists,_ Satan takes one look and didn’t even bother to _try_ and hide his disbelief. “You’re _this_ affected just because we’re finally dating?”

“Of course!” Asmodeus snaps, which made him narrow his eyes.

“I won’t have you telling me what to do and lecturing me like Luc—”

“Now you’re going to take away my last shot at getting together with Solomon!” he wails, the perfect picture of misery. “Why did you even have to take my manager, Satan? I was _this_ close to finally seizing my chance with Solomon!”

_“What.”_ the blond-haired CEO deadpanned, but he was duly ignored by his brother who turns to give you his most pleading look of all looks.

“You’ll still help me, right?” he asked, voice plaintive and nothing short of begging at this point as he ignored Satan. “You promised you would! No wait, please? I need to get boned by Solomon and possibly also have his heart—yeah, definitely his heart but I don’t mind getting boned in the process too! See, I’m capable of loving other people than myself but self-love is also important— _ugh,_ some people really don’t understand but you wouldn’t believe that Solomon actually agreed to my point and took the time to listen to what I have to say about it! So, I really want to maybe date him—”

“Okay, okay,” you cut off his rambling before Satan’s expression could get any worse, likely imagining the ensuing public and internal fallout because of Asmodeus _and_ Solomon. **Together.** “I’m still going to help you get to know Solomon, Asmo, alright?”

“You promise?” Asmodeus sniffles, and your expression softens at the uncertainty flashing in his wet eyes.

“Promise,” you beam at him with as much cheer as you can, bracing yourself for the inevitable tackle-hug as he shouts his thanks directly beside your ears. Wincing, you share a look with a now-disconcerted Satan, lightly gesturing for him to stay later than usual today just before Asmodeus pulled back.

Expression awash with a pleased flush, Asmodeus soon flashes the two of you a sly grin. “So, how did the two of you end up together anyway?”

“None of your business,” Satan snaps, but he merely pouts in response.

“Oh come on! Everyone’s like been wondering how you managed to convince my darling manager into being with you!”

“It’s not really anything special,” you hurriedly cut in, lips curving into an admittedly dopey smile despite yourself as you remember the events that led to the of you where you are right now. “Just… _yeah.”_

“How dreamy,” Asmodeus sighed longingly, spying your expression and how Satan likewise softened as he looks at your face. “Looks like Satan really lucked out on you, huh?”

“On the contrary,” Satan murmurs, eyes filled with nothing but affection for you as you smile at him. “I do believe that _I_ am the lucky one in here.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, both Satan and Lucifer are CEOs of an entertainment company and Solomon was signed as a rapper/artist/producer in Lucifer’s company while Asmo is the sweetheart of Satan’s company. Everyone knows they’re brothers and that they’re always competing for the music charts and yes, they also think that Solomon and Asmo are rivals because of this except they kind of want to get into each other’s pants…much to the PR department’s utter horror and to Lucifer and Satan’s irritation. So yeah, maybe Asmo’s pining isn’t as one-sided as we thought…


	11. better than pixel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 11 prompt – rpg/fantasy

* * *

“I’m going to kill Levi.”

“What did he do this time, Sun?” you ask, voice a little distracted as you spy him taking a seat at the foot of your bed on your periphery. Though, you were far more focused by the recent game that Leviathan had downloaded into your D.D.D. _because the storyline is so fulfilling and it doesn’t even need romance to become an excellent game so you gotta play it with me!_ and you really had to admit, the story really did exceed your expectations.

The graphics are aesthetically pleasing too, and the cards are just, _wow._ One card in particular made you want to print it and maybe put a frame on it onto your room just so you could stare at the sheer masterpiece of it every day, but a certain moody feline probably wouldn’t appreciate it too.

“He got you pulled under with him on his gaming addictions again,” said moody cat grumbled, before hands wrapped around waist as he nuzzled your side. “What’s so good on just pixelated 2D characters doing repeated one-liners and sayings anyway?”

At that, you can’t help but pause mid-game and turn to look at your needy cat; one that seems to be sulkily fishing for affection and griping about having your apparent attention taken away from him.

The image of Satan lightly puffing out his cheeks before he rests his forehead on your side at your lackluster attitude towards him was utterly _endearing._

“Don’t worry, Satan,” you can’t quite keep the mirth from bleeding into your voice, laughing a little as he pointedly avoids your stare. “You’re definitely better than any games that I’ve ever played.”

His expression lightens at that, eagerly meeting you up for a long, drawn-out kiss.

Until a face flashed across your mind.

“Well, maybe except for Azuma—”

_“I’m going to set fire to all of his consoles.”_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you spot the reference? ;) idk if it counts tho but i think it could be put under rpg?? i'm sorry, i don't play a lot of games aaaaa


	12. a clandestine affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 12 prompt - angel

* * *

You felt the shadows sneaking in to hold your feet in before you swept off of your feet with a whoosh, the air ruffling the feathers and dislodging a handful as you let out a startled laugh at the familiar shade of vivid yellow that contrasted greatly to the firm horns resting on Satan’s head.

Despite this, you can help but soften at the look of self-reproach as he spies the trail of pristine white feathers fluttering gently fluttering around you before settling down on the grass with a frown. Tenderly, you raise a hand to brush away the stray bangs covering his eyes before he finally looks up to you.

“It’s still not too late. You could still turn back to heal,” he murmurs, leaning slightly to your touch as you move your hand into cupping one side of his cheek. Glittering emerald, bright and filled with flecks of gold so filled to bursting with affection and yet, the sheer sadness that you could see within those viridescent depths can’t help but compel you to wipe it away.

And so, you did.

It was simply maddening how Satan could always give you so much and yet leave so little for himself in the process, already anticipating the fallout and refusing to even entertain the smallest of notions.

Didn’t he see how much you’re willing to trade your grace for spending the rest of your immortal lifetime with him?

“Divinity matters little if it meant that I would be in misery and heartache for the rest of eternity,” you murmur, making Satan freeze before squeezing you tighter as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. A simple, sweet smile brightens the now significant dimness of your mien, filled with just as much affection to the demon that had so “lured” your heart once upon a time. “Surely you wouldn’t want to experience such a torture like that too?”

A pause, before he leans closer for a deep, _claiming_ kiss.

“Then you must understand the consequences of your words, angel,” Satan rumbles, but you’re not afraid, _never_ afraid.

Not when it comes to Satan.

“Aren’t I always?” At this, your smile is touched with a hint of mischief, sly and beguiling and was utterly at odds with the previous curve of your lips.

You both know that nothing would be the same after this.

He huffs out a laugh, smirking through lidded eyes. When he speaks, nothing about his eyes showed his earlier emotions, dark and hypnotizing as they are as his shadows writhed excitedly at his feet.

“My, I suppose we can make a demon out of you yet.”

* * *


End file.
